All Which Glitters Is Not Gold

I used to think oceans could heal me; funny, how I thought you could as well. 

My mistake for forgetting, that just like the sea, people have depths much too dark for the naked eye to see. I used to think that drowning was a simple sort of death. 

I had no idea what loss of breath was like until my lungs collapsed at the first sign of heartbreak. I sank further, but fought with fragile limbs to find your surface. I wanted so desperately to return to the lovely mask you wore, like the one the ocean wears to bed each night at sunset. I loathed the truth, it was suffocating me with honesty - the idea that all which glitters, is not gold.